


Sacred Oath

by DarkKnightDan



Category: Dark Souls, Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Acceptance, Betrayal, Comrades, Friends to Lovers, Loss, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Male/Male, Multi, Self-Acceptance, Sequence of One Shots, warriors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDan/pseuds/DarkKnightDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of the Sun's firsborn, and his faithful first knight. A collection of one shots featuring Ornstein and Gwyn's Firstborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From the darkness, we had risen. From the great depths we had come rising up like a torrential wave, crashing against the shores of the world that had been out of our grasp for far too long. Our tide had rushed upon the sand of ash, the foam of our waves was men in silver armor, each bearing a spear in one hand, a sword on his belt.  
It was our fearless Lord that stood at the crest of our wave. Fearless, it was his bolts of lightning that reached high into the sky above like gnarled fingers to pull our enemies down from where they hung in the sky, followed by arrows and similar bolts from his own son.  
When I had witnessed this event for the first time, the chills that ran down my spine had lingered there for days, long after our first battle had ended. Now, even years later, it was still humbling just to see the beginnings of battles so grand in scale that the annals would record them as nothing less than a war within themselves.  
I, like many others, had not come seeking grandeur when this war had commenced. That assertion could not be any farther from the truth. I had come in search of freedom, and of a life beyond the darkness that had lingered in our former home.  
But now, it seemed as though I would not even have the opportunity to witness this vision to its fruition. Upon the battlefield I lay, my brothers and comrades either dead around me, or rushing to continue the battle against the fearsome drake that had cut me down. My armor looked as though it had been made of parchment, bearing large swipes that sent the metal jutting in odd directions.  
From these wounds, my blood spilt upon the sand that we had fought so hard to claim. Every inch of our advancement had meant many scores of brothers lost, and only the smallest number of beasts slain as remittance for their sacrifice.  
Just as I thought my time for this world was drawing to its close, I bore witness to a wondrous sight. Above me, lightning splintered and cracked through the air. The cries of drakes resonated through the air, formerly fearsome voices now reduced to horrendous cries of agony.  
I had never heard a sound that was so beautiful in all of my life. I had always loved the sound of a falling dragon, the final cries that emanated from its gaping maw, but it was so much sweeter as twilight drew upon the final day of my life.  
At least, I thought it to be the last day of my life. It seemed as though Nito held other plans for me. Instead of death bringing its dark shroud over me, a bountiful light shined down upon me, as warm and bright as the rays of the sun itself.  
In this moment, I cried out for my God, for Lord Gwyn. I was certain that it was he who has bestowed this healing gift upon me, but instead of the resonant, powerful voice I knew to belong to our commander. A more kind, gentle voice pierced through the light, accompanied by the smallest of chuckles.  
"Close." Was all the voice responded to my cry, and then a hand was extended to me. Grateful for the assistance, I seized the hand in my own and found myself being lifted to my feet. Still blinded by the influx of illumination, it took a moment for the face I was looking into to register in my mind.  
Two pools that seemed to be filled to the brim with blue lightning met my own, a pair of thin lips pulled back into a smile that betrayed the title of the man who possessed it. Standing before me, as any mere mortal would, was Gwynord, the God of War himself.  
I marveled in everything that he was. The crown that rested upon his head resembled the Lord's own closely, as did his armor, the only difference being his fabled spear. A cross between his father's great sword and the spear of a common soldier, it looked as though it could cut through the hide of a dragon with ease, even without the endowment of the Lord's lightning.  
He stood taller than I did, even if it was just by a few inches. He held that wonderful weapons of his as though it were a mere toy. If there was ever a man to embody war, then I could see how it would be Gwynord.  
It was only when he went charging back into battle that I came to my senses, and followed close behind, spear in hand. Though I had been at the door of death only moments ago, I had now flung that door wide open and laughed in the face of Nito himself.  
I fought as though our God of War's miracle had bestowed upon me the very powers of a god. The flame of no drake could find me, nor my armor. My spear hit every mark at which I aimed it, piercing deep into the holes in the scales of the dragons, which had been peeled back by the divine lightning that our lord had beset them with.  
It was exhilarating, I could feel every beat of my mortal heart as it pumped the vital liquid I had left upon the sand through my veins. It felt like blood no longer, though, instead it felt like someone had filled my entire body with fire, one that was only satiated each time a drake or dragon perished under my spear.  
I did not bring these beasts to the great divide on my own, however. I fought alongside my silver knight comrades, though I led them with the ferocity of a great beast myself, flooding into the midst of the drakes as though they were not a threat to us.  
In the end, I found myself bathed in the blood of my enemies, a thick, black substance that coated the entirety of my formerly silver armor. I had gone through dozens of spears, mostly picked up from my fallen comrades. On top of this, I had lost my helm and a great deal of my armor. Though a great deal of my skin was burnt, I felt no pain as the adrenaline continued to rush through my veins like liquid fire.  
Even after the battle was over I still couldn't get the urge to bring an end to a dragon out of my head. I found myself lying awake that night, yearning for the feeling of a dragon falling beneath me after dealing it the killing blow.  
In the dead of night, I expected no visitors, but my tent flap was pulled open just the same. A voice cut through the stillness of the night, requesting that I come out of the tent. Blindly obliging to the request, I crawled out, baring my burnt skin to the pale light of the moon.  
I rose to my feet, and found myself looking into the same powerful eyes that had met mine during our battle. Even without his armor, I could clearly recognize Gwynord standing in front of me. His powerful shoulders were squared back, and he gazed down at me with a hint of admiration in his gaze.  
Much like his father, Gwynord spoke boldly, confidently. He praised me for the bravery and strength I had displayed during the battle in the hours previous. I expressed my humility, which he swiftly dismissed, insisting that it was quite impressive to slay half a dozen of our enemy in a day.  
Then, he surprised me. The God of War, heir to Sunlight, requested that I become his student, so that I may learn the way of his power, so that I might assist my comrades in battle, so that we might gain even the slightest of advantages in this war.  
After this, Lord Gwnord requested my name, which I relinquished to him.  
"Ornstein."


	2. From Small Beginnings

Chapter 2  
The halls of greater Anor Londo were even more illustrious than I had initially imagined. Where I had grown up I had been able to see the rising steeples of the cathedral high above the city, along with the church of Gwynevere. Their towers and buttresses seemed to reach up as though to grasp the very sky itself.  
I vaguely remembered a time when I was a child, when I had entered into the cathedral accompanied by my mother and father, my father having been a highly respected knight in the ranks of Lord Gwyn. The occasion had been some manner of celebration, though what it had been exactly I could not remember.   
Now, I strode through the hall accompanied not by my father, but by a man who had taken me as his brother.   
Dressed in royal garb rather than his armor, Gwynord strode down the hall in front of me, carving a path through the stream of knights and servants that never ceased their journey through the hall.  
While many of the Knights within the palace of the royal family were without their weapons, Gwynord had insisted that I keep my spear close. Why he had insisted upon this, I could not say, as he had relinquished his own weapon to a servant so that it might be cleaned and stored until he needed it again.  
I had not questioned my teacher, though, instead holding my spear as we moved through the crowds, being careful to ensure that I did not cause harm to any of the humans that served in the palace.  
At one point, my master turned and said something to me, though I could not hear over the noise of the servants. I indicated as such to my master, tapping my ear to illustrate my words. He cast an annoyed glare at the servants around him, but moved toward a door fit into an alcove of the wall. I followed closely, as I was supposed to.   
Once Gwynord had opened the door he stepped inside, briefly holding the door open so that I could step through. Once I was through I shut the door, ensuring that it was closed completely before I turned to my master.  
Gwynord cast me an amused smirk at my caution, before he spoke.  
"We are going to be in the presence of my Lord Father and Lady Mother, along with Sister Gwynevere. As my apprentice, I expect you to hold yourself in high bearing, Ornstein. You are only to speak when spoken to. Speak out of turn, and I will see to it that you are punished." These words were jarring to me, a striking contrast to my master's usual temperament. Not wanting to worsen his mood any further, I nodded my response. Seemingly satisfied with my understanding, Gwynord moved back to the door, which I opened for him.  
Now my heart was pounding within my chest. The only Lord I had ever been in the presence of was Gwynord, and now I would be in a room with not two, but four Lords. This thought made my skin crawl with anticipation, whilst my stomach simultaneously knotted with anxiety.   
It was curious that Gwynord was allowing me to accompany him to this meeting with his family, as he had previously left me outside of Lord Gwyn's tent when he'd entered to discuss battle strategy with his father. I had been fine with this, as Lord Gwyn's imposing figure was humbling, even from a distance. I shuddered to think how he could belittle a man when standing face to face with him.  
I didn't even have a helm to hide my expression behind. Gwynord had insisted that I remain in the state that he'd found me in the night he'd taken me as his apprentice, armor and all. While my armor had been cleaned, there were still large gashes where the claws of drakes had ripped through the steel.   
The only thing that was different was the spear that I held. It was not unlike the spear of any other silver knight, save for its greater length and flat cross. This weapon had been granted to me by lord Gwynord himself, one that he had wielded before gaining the sword spear that he now carried into every battle.  
As Gwynord and I approached the throne room the concentration of Knights in the steam of people thinned while more servants packed the hall, moving back and forth from the room perpetually. However, all movement ceased when Gwynord entered into the throne room. I lingered behind him, just slightly to his right in my position of servitude.  
Gwynord knelt, bowing his head in prostration to his father, an action which I mimicked, though I placed my fist upon the ground in addition to my knees, an expression of total subservience to my Lord.   
"Rise, my son." Gwyn instructed my master, who rose from his kneeling position. He gestured for me to rise as well, and I slowly came to my feet, standing with my hands at my side and my head bowed.  
I did not look up, as I did not wish to offend my Lord or his family. It was known to be a sign of great disrespect to gaze upon Lord Gwyn without his permission if outside of battle.   
Gwynord greeted his sister, I could hear Lady Gwynevere's soft, cheerful voice as she likewise greeted her brother. I also heard the cool, sharp tone of Velka's voice somewhere to my right as Gwynord greeted her.   
Then, Gwynord beckoned me forward, directing me to introduce myself. This was unheard of. Never before had I heard of a mortal greeting any of the Lords, not even as their servants.   
I directed my gaze forward and squared my shoulders back, my eyes sweeping across the room to the faces there. As I had known, Lord Gwyn and Lady Velka stood to my front, while Lady Gwynevere was slightly to their right. The light that shone through the high reaching windows around the room made the royal family seem even more divine than they truly were.  
"I am Knight Ornstein, your humble servant." I stated as I bowed to the Lord of Sunlight. I heard an amused hum escape from Gwyn's direction. I dared not look up, fearful of the disgust that I would see upon his features. I was just a mortal, after all. I wasn't worthy to be standing in his presence. However, when Lord Gwyn spoke, I heard admiration in his tone.  
"So, you are the man who had been cutting down all manner of our enemy alongside my son. If I did not know better, I would say that Gwynord had fathered a child of his own." I held back my expression of surprise and remained silent despite my urge to thank Lord Gwyn for his compliment. I wished not to speak out of turn. Sensing this, my master took over the situation for me.  
"So, what say you, father? Even you have admitted that he fights like a Lord. My initial offer may have seemed ludicrous, but that was before you witnessed my apprentice. What say you now?" Initial offer? My master had never mentioned any offer to me, nor had he informed me that I was under the scrutiny of his Lord Father. At Gwynord's words, the Lord of Sunlight's lips twisted into an expressions of ire.  
"You know that what you are requesting has never been done before, Gwynord. Not with a fragment of a Lord Soul, anyway. Mine was abundant enough to split among you and your sister. How your fragment will fare, I cannot be sure. I will not have you losing your power for such a frivolous cause." Pale blue eyes narrowed as Gwynord shot his response at his father like an arrow let loose.  
"Then assist me, Father. As you said, your soul is abundant enough to fracture. You offered a piece of it to the pale drake for his efforts in the war, along with that brutish archer." Gwyn simply glared at his son through the bite of his words.   
"You speak in spite then, Gwynord." Gwyn leant upon the arm of his throne, resting his chin upon his hand. "Allow your apprentice to claim his power through the ways of the ancients, if he is able." With a smirk, Gwynord called a servant over and requested that a sword be brought. While I questioned why a sword was necessary, it dawned upon me why I had been allowed to keep my spear.  
I had seen Lord Gwyn draw power from the dragons that he slew, just as Lord Gwynord drew power from our fallen comrades.   
When the servant my master had spoken to returned, he carried a curved sword, one that I had never seen Gwynord wield before. Come to think of it, I had never seen him wield anything but his swordspear. Even his lightning was not conjured from his hand, but through the spear itself.   
Gwynord took the curved blade in hand, giving it a few experimental swings before turning toward me. His usual kind visage was replaced by a stone like expression often worn by Lord Gwyn.  
"Come, Ornstein. Show my father all you have learned."   
To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. Gwynord was my master, my friend, I never wanted to take up a blade against him. But, it seemed I had no other choice in the matter. So, I moved my spear up and bent down, placing one hand on the ground as I readied myself to charge. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Gwyn's confused expression, but my master only gave me a calm smile.   
I threw myself forward, like a bolt of lightning I moved across the throne room, baring my spear for a thrust. When I was only a few feet from my master I pushed the spear forward, aiming for his abdomen. It pained me to do so, but it is what I had been instructed to do.  
Gwynord sidestepped my attack of course, he would not be so easily defeated. Once he had evaded my attack he countered with one of his own, a strike with the flat of his blade against my back, a blow which caused the armor I wore to vibrate intensely, sending tremors up the entirety of my spine.  
We had been in this situation before, dozens of times. Over the months that he had trained me, Gwynord had always scolded my first attack. He insisted that it left me too open to a counter. Instead of listening, I just kept trying it in different ways. Such was my way.  
Now, it seemed as though Gwynord had lost his patience for my determination. When my eyes gazed into his usually calm lakes I instead saw a stormy ocean, full of the lightning that occupied that space during battle.  
I raised my spear again, just in time to catch the end of my master's blade upon the cross. With this advantage, I threw his sword toward his weak hand, allowing me to step forward and lunge.  
With lightning reflexes, Gwynord moved around my spear's blade and grabbed the cross, pulling me toward his own blade, which he held out straight beneath my spear. I loosed one hand from my spear in order to knock Gwynord's own blade away with my gauntlet, but in my vulnerable state my master took the advantage. He pulled my spear forward violently, sending me off balance as he let go of the cross and slammed his fist into my jaw. There was a sickening crack as my head flew back, and my grip loosened on my spear. I heard it clatter to the ground at the same moment that I made contact with the stone.  
When I opened my eyes from where the force of my master's blow had forced them shut, I found myself staring down his blade. I could taste blood in my mouth, and a tooth that had been broken out by the force of Gywnord's fist.   
I spit the tooth out, allowing the scarlet stained bone to clatter upon the floor as I stared up at Gwynord defiantly.   
"Do it." I growled through gritted teeth as I stared into the twin abysses of his eyes, still clouded by anger from where I had wounded his pride. As I waited for Gwynord to deliver his final blow, I heard a soft voice from where the other Lords had been standing.  
"Brother, please spare him." The gentle voice of Princess Gwynevere pleaded. Gwynord directed his gaze toward her, and then toward his father. I waited, staring at my master without falter. Gwynord directed his gaze back to me, and then withdrew his blade, casting it aside.   
Instead of helping me up, as he usually did, my master simply turned and stalked out of the room. Slowly, I pushed myself to my knees, and then to my feet as the world spun around me. With shaking feet, I moved toward the Princess of Sunlight, and prostrated myself at her feet. I said nothing, only directing my gaze to the floor.  
"Rise, brave knight." Gwynevere whispered, and so I moved to my feet once more. Her kind Amber eyes met my own, and she cast me a kind smile.  
"Please, allow my handmaidens to tend to you. I believe my father and brother would like to converse." Directing my gaze back over my shoulder, I saw that Gwynord stood in the back of the chamber, his arms crossed over his chest angrily.   
In accordance with the Princess' wishes, I departed from the chamber with one of her handmaidens, who tended to me with powerful miracles. While the missing bone from my jaw did not grow back, the flow of blood against my tongue did cease.   
Once I had been tended to, I entered back into the throne room. Gwynord cast his gaze my way, and I saw a spark of compassion within his vibrant blue eyes. Lord Gwyn did not offer me as much as a gaze, instead keeping his gaze fixed upon my master and friend.   
"Come here." Gwynord commanded me, directing me to stand in my usual place at his side. I took my place next to him, my hands in fists at my side, realizing that my spear was now in Gwynord's hand.   
"Your bravery is admirable." Gwyn commented, looking down upon me from where he sat.   
"If my son wishes to bequeath to you a piece of his Lord Soul, then I will not stop him. If you continue to impress me, then perhaps you will gain a shard of my own."  
I started to ask how I would gain a piece of Gwynord's soul when I felt a thin blade being forced into my back. Pain exploded throughout my body and I gasped, gritting my teeth to stop from crying out. It felt as though the entirety of my essence was seeping out of the new wound, not just my blood.   
"You will live." Was the last thing I heard Gwynord say as I sank down into darkness.


	3. Flame

Chapter 3  
There was a grand celebration at the birth of the third child of Gwyn. As the first knight of his firstborn, and captain of the guard, it was necessary that I be in attendance. It seemed less necessary that a certain God of War be in attendance though, as when the Royal family took their place in the throne room Gwynord was nowhere to be found. Lord Gwyn questioned me concerning my former teacher's whereabouts, and I responded that I had not seen Gwynord since our meeting concerning the course of our campaign.  
Artorias, ever present at Gwyn's side as I was at Gwynevere's asserted that our God of War had appeared distressed during our meeting. I agreed wholeheartedly. Gwynord hadn't just seemed distressed during our meeting, but for a great time before that.   
In fact, over the past few months his entire temperament had changed entirely. Instead of the generally relaxed and happy man that he was, Gwynord had seemed stressed and generally more irritable. During one of our late night discussions, he had snapped at me, which was highly unlike him. The last time I had seen such a storm in his eyes had been on the day that Gwynord gave me a shard of his Lord Soul.   
This worried me greatly. I had prayed that the birth of another sibling would perhaps raise Gwynord from the darkness that I could not draw him out of. However, after Gwynolyn's birth I had not seen my former teacher, nor had I heard a word from him.   
On top of the worry that this caused me, a heavy heart lingered within my chest. I yearned to gaze into the wonderful sapphires of his eyes, to hear his strong heartbeat, to feel the caress of his calloused fingers across my back as he held me close in the twilight hours.   
I could feel the sad expression that had crept onto my features, fortunately covered by the lion helm that I wore. Had I been forced to remove it, I did not know how I would be able to disguise the sadness that plagued me.  
I felt the light pressure of a hand upon the forearm of my armor, and looked to see that Princess Gwynevere was smiling up at me kindly from where she sat. Over the clamor of the party, I could barely hear the Princess' words as she spoke to me.  
"If my brother's absence troubles you so, Sir Ornstein, then seek him out. I am certain Sir Artorias had everything under control here." With a sigh, I shook my head in response.  
"I cannot do that, your highness. My duty is to protect you, and in a crowd such as this one never knows from where a blade may arise." I insisted. Princess Gwynevere sighed, but did not press the matter any further. She knew from my time serving her that once I was set upon a duty, then it was near impossible to change my mind.  
Gwynord admires that in me, I mused. He'd insisted that was one of the qualities that had drawn him to me. I cursed the fact that I could not force him out of my mind. It was like he was one of the great arch trees embedded in my mind with such strong roots that it was near impossible to tear them out.   
The party went as most of the Royal parties did, with a great deal of feasting and revelry. Lord Gwyn sat stoic upon his throne, while Lady Velka moved about, conversing with various other deities, just as Lady Gwynevere did.   
Throughout the entire party, I constantly scanned the various faces in the crowd. I recognized a channeler, one of the servants of Seath the Scaleless. They almost always appeared at Royal functions, acting as eyes for the Duke. I did not dislike them, though I did find their interest in Princess Gwynevere extremely discomforting. Whenever any of them were around, I made sure to stay within an extremely close proximity to the Princess.   
It was a good ways through the party when I saw him, speaking with his father. Gwynord looked exhausted, his golden blonde locks disheveled as though he had just woken. I yearned to go to him, to run to my....my lover, but my sense of duty kept me rooted to the spot as Gwynevere spoke to one of the lesser deities.   
When Princess Gwynevere noticed where my gaze was directed, she gently put a hand on my breastplate.   
"Ornstein, I will be fine. Please, go to him." I looked between the Princess and Gwynord for a moment before gesturing one of the silver Knights stationed around the room over. I instructed the man to watch over the princess as I made my way over to Gwynord, my hands balling into nervous fists as I walked.   
When Gwynord glanced up and saw me approaching, he swiftly excused himself and departed from the room by one of the back hallways, heading toward the Princess' garden. I avoided the eye of Lord Gwyn, and followed Gwynord's route quickly.   
Pale light was thrown into the courtyard that housed the garden, and the fountain in the middle sent cascades of water blossoming up into the air. Gwynord stood on the edge of the fountain, his shadowy silhouette standing in sharp contrast to the illuminated water.  
My metal boots made heavy clanks as I approached, stripping my helm off of my head as I did so and tucking it under my arm. I stood behind Gwynord, waiting for him to turn or at least acknowledge my presence. For a few moments, the only sound in the courtyard was that of the water being spewed from the fountain meeting the pool that was perpetually gathered beneath it. Then, Gwynord broke the silence.  
"Ornstein, have you tired of war after all of these years?" It wasn't exactly the first words that I had wished to hear from my lover, but it was better than silence.  
"I tire of losing my brothers to the dragons. This war brings us closer to a day when that will no longer be a pain that we know....why?" In response to my counter-question, Gwynord sighed and ran his fingers through the golden locks that my own fingers had become entangled in dozens of times before.   
Then, his hands were suddenly on my hips, drawing me in like a spider drew in its prey. I became entangled in the web of our shared passion like I had so many times before. His lips moved in a marvelous dance against my own. I could feel the piece of his Lord Soul that lingered within me reaching out for its original vessel. His fingers found my hair, clutched it tightly, and held me there as I felt the passion flow through us.   
After some time of this, Gwynord gently pushed me away, and leant down to whisper in my ear.   
"I believe you have a Princess to attend to, Lion Knight. I'm going to retire to my chambers. I will see you there." Gwynord placed another kiss gently upon my lips and smiled before walking away, leaving a fire burning deep within the core of my soul. By the name of Gwyn, I burned for him as though he shoved a fragment of the first flame into my core. But, I had to restrain myself. I had already abandoned my post for too long. So, I found my way back to the party, and to the Princess.  
The rest of the party went on without incident and, once it was finished, I escorted the Princess to her chambers. Once she was secured, Princess Gwynevere bade me goodnight. She then shut her door so that her handmaidens could prepare her for sleep.  
Then, I went to Gwynord. By the time I reached his bedside, all of my armor was off of my body, lying in various places around the God of War's chambers. My underclothes soon followed. The fire that I had kept pinned within my core found itself intensified by his presence, and he was all too happy to satiate it.  
At the end of the night, my head rested against Gwynord's chest, one arm draped over his waist while his own encircled my torso, holding me tight against him. His breathing was steady, even, powerful, just as I always expected from a man of his stature.   
"Ornstein, I have to tell you something." He whispered, causing me to lean back so that I could gaze into his eyes.   
"Is this what's been distressing you?" I questioned and Gwynord chuckled.   
"You noticed?"  
"What kind of lover would I be if I didn't?" Gwynord smiled and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead in response. As I waited for him to tell me whatever it was he needed to say, and grew more concerned by the expression on his face. It was one of total anxiety. What could be so taxing that it would worry a God of War?  
"Ornstein, I have found the home of the dragons." My ears perked up, and my eyes widened at his words.  
"Really? That's excellent! Gwynord that's...that's amazing! We can finally end this war, you just have to tell your father." As I spoke, I saw Gwynord's expression fall. "What's wrong?" I questioned and Gwynord sat up, sighing as he did. He held his head in his hands, slouched over in a stature that did not fit him at all.   
"I.....don't want to kill them."  
"What in the name of Izalith do you mean? These abominations have killed dozens of our ilk, and you don't want to exterminate them?" I could feel anger rising in me, but more than that was the feeling of disbelief at Gwynord's words.   
"And we have killed hundreds of them. Do you not understand what this could mean for us? We could finally have peace. We could find end this war without the use of the first flame. Please, you have to see some sense in this."  
"I wish I could." I whispered and Gwynord put his hand on my shoulder.   
"I am going to tell the other gods about this....and I am going to need your support. With you at my side, Captain of the Knights, I feel that my father may listen. Please, stand by me." I turned to face Gwynord, my former teacher, my friend, my lover. His eyes plead with me, and ignited a conflict within me.  
I was a Dragonslayer. That was my claim. Yes, I also guarded Princess Gwynevere, but it was not Guardian that the people of Anor Londo whispered when I passed by. No, they whispered Dragonslayer. They did so with such reverence that one could be forgiven for thinking that it was a title belonging to Lord Gwyn. I was a hero in their eyes, the greatest warrior in all of Lordran, second only to Gwynord.   
With a sigh, I pressed my hands to my eyes. What was I going to do, what would I sacrifice. My status, or my love?   
"You know that I will always love you, right?" I questioned and Gwynord nodded in response.   
"Of course I know that, just as I will always love you." With those words, I sighed.  
"I will support you, my love. Not because I believe the dragons deserve it, but because you have never steered me wrong before."   
And so, Gwynord and I established our second covenant.


	4. Disgraced

Chapter 4  
My chamber doors were thrown open in the dead of the night, and I was pulled out of my bed by a pair of familiar arms. I was thrown against the wall, and when my eyes finally managed to focus, I recognized Artorias standing there with his hands clamped tightly on my shoulders.  
"Where is Gwynord?" Artorias demanded, causing me to cast him a visage of confusion.  
"What are you talking about?" I questioned, and Artorias pulled me forward before slamming me back against the wall once more, sending my head rocketing back against the stone. My vision blurred and I groaned from the pain.   
"Where is the God of War!?" Artorias yelled full force into my face.   
"I don't know!" I shouted back, and Artorias smashed a fist into my jaw. This jolt allowed me to get a grip on reality and I threw a fist at my fellow knight. Artorias let go of his grip on my shoulders and stumbled backwards, holding his now-broken nose as he did so.  
"Why are you looking for Gwynord?" I questioned, steadying myself against the wall with one hand.   
"Why do you think? The heresy which he committed must be punished. Lord Gwyn has ordered that Gwynord be brought forward for execution."  
"Wasn't he thrown into the dungeons?"  
"He was, but it seems as though he has managed to escape. Now, I suggest that you tell us where it was that he went before you are condemned to a similar fate. You are my brother, I do not wish to see you under the hammer of our executioner."  
"Then believe me brother....I know not where Gwynord has disappeared to." I did my best to disguise the pain in my tone caused by Gwynord's sudden departure. I had expected Gwynord to leave Anor Londo, but he had insisted that before fleeing he would come for me, and we would elope together. He had sworn as much.  
Artorias seemed to examine me for any sign of a lie, and then sighed.   
"Come, Lady Velka will judge whether you are telling the truth or not." Artorias, along with his small squad of silver Knights, led me through the palace and into the throne room. Upon his throne, Lord Gwyn sat, flanked by Lady Velka.   
Once I was inside the throne room, Artorias' Knights departed, heading back out into the hall. The tension in the throne room was so heavy that I left as though I could cut it with a blade. Lord Gwyn stared down at me with the same gaze that had shifted my alignment only a day previous.   
"Ornstein, my loyal knight, are you aware of where Gwynord has departed to?"  
"I do not, my Lord. However, I would not be surprised if he were still within Anor Londo." As though summoned by my postulation, the azure blue cloaked form of Ciaran entered into the throne room. She stood off to the side, and bowed. From beneath her mask a soft voice arose.  
"My Lord, it appears as though the prisoner is no longer within the confines of Anor Londo. My sisters and I have moved throughout the entire city, there is no trace of him." Gywn nodded in satisfaction to Ciaran's report.   
"Velka, is Ornstein telling the truth?" The raven haired goddess of sin directed her piercing gaze upon me, a pair of quicksilver blades that searched my soul itself.  
"He does not know the whereabouts of the traitor." Velka confirmed, looking to Gwyn as she spoke. He nodded.  
"My apologies for distrusting you, my loyal friend. You must understand why I believed you would know. You were...very close to him." I could see the words that Gwyn wanted to say flash through his eyes, but he obviously decided to restrain himself.   
"You need not apologize, my Lord." I responded, bowing my head in a sign of reverence. Gwyn then instructed Artorias and Ciaran to begin searching the other cities, after that they were to look in Izalith and the Catacombs. When I questioned where Lord Gwyn wished for me to go, he directed me to Firelink Parish. He commanded me to destroy the shrine to Gwynord that rested there. He did not use my love's name, of course, he referred to him as "the traitor."  
Not one to disobey orders given to me by Lord Gwyn, I departed from Anor Londo.   
It didn't take me long to reach Firelink Parish, and when I did I trudged up the stairs that led to Sen's Fortress. A group of clerics milled about the church, performing some ritual or another. As I passed they all bowed and offered some kind of blessing upon me, which I thanked them for gratefully. At this point, I needed all the prayers I could get.  
It was a short walk from the church to Gwynord's shrine. It was simple compared to the Grand Cathedrals of Anor Londo, a small outcropping off of a courtyard bearing a life-sized statue of Gwynord.   
I looked up into the statue's eyes, wishing they were filled with the same life that Gwynord's own eyes were. It was then, standing in front of that statue, that the full force of the last two days finally slammed down upon me like a hammering fist. I fell to my knees, and stripped off my helm, my vision blurred with tears.   
I slammed my gauntlet covered fist into the stone of the statue's base, shattering the stone as though it were ice. I cried out in anguish as the tears flowed down my face like twin rivers.   
"How could you leave me behind, you bastard!" I yelled at the statue of my lover, standing up and throwing my fist at the stone. Along with the crack of stone, I felt the bones in my hand shatter on impact. I ignored the pain though, and slammed my other fist into the stone. Gwynord's sculpted body crumbled into pieces, and I picked up chunks of them, casting them out to the expanse just over the edge. When a good amount of them were gone I just slumped forward, pressing my head against the stone as the tears continued to flow.   
"You said you wouldn't leave......"


	5. Sweetest Memories

Chapter 5  
The light from the feast going on in the main hall of the palace shone up onto the balconies surrounding it. Usually, silver Knights would be stationed here as means of defense, but with how few people were in attendance Lord Gwyn did not think it necessary. In fact, he had allowed me to take my leave, insisting that Artorias could watch over the entirety of the guests alone.   
So, I had made my way upstairs, where I had spotted Gwynord's face among the shadows and, sure enough, when I arrived upon the balcony he was leaning against the railing, scanning the celebration going on below us. I walked to his side and assumed a similar posture, crossing my arms on the railing. Gwynord glanced over at me, and a smile cracked his expression.  
"Who are you, sir? You remind me of a certain knight, but he would never walk about without his armor on." Gwynord chuckled at his own jape and I looked away, collecting a comeback.  
"Well, some people must hide their beauty, lest they worry all the dutiful husbands of Anor Londo." At this Gwynord had to cover his mouth so as not to betray the laugh he was attempting to contain.  
"A cruel joke, Sir. The people of Anor Londo whisper how he must be a twisted beast, how he never removes that cat helm of his."   
"They can believe so all they like. It matters not to me." I replied, glancing sidelong at my friend. Who shook his head while his smile lingered upon his features.  
"You never attend the feasts, Lord Gwyn will have my pelt if I have to keep telling him you prefer to reside within your chambers." I informed Gwynord, who smirked.  
"Well, my Lord Father should be aware that I have been that way since I was a child. I am a God of War, not a god of wine and festivities."   
"And here I was going to ask you to share a goblet with me."   
"Sir Knight, how scandalous would it be for a God to share a cup with a lion, even if that lion is his first knight?" I glanced over at Gwynord, my eyes scanning his features for any indication of seriousness in that question. As expected, I found none. However, I decided to play along.  
"Quite scandalous. So much so, in fact, that Lord Gwyn's prized cat may just lose his place at the Lord's feet." I smiled to myself.  
"Come, Sir, let us continue this discussion of Lord Gwyn's pet elsewhere, lest the lord overhear and attempt to skin us both for our transgressions." Without waiting for a reply, Gwynord walked down the balcony, toward one of the doors that led to the balconies outside of the main hall.  
Leading the way, my former mentor pushed open the door, allowing the crisp breeze of the early winter air to come billowing into the hall. I felt goosebumps instantly rise upon my skin, though I didn't shy away from the cold. I joined Gwynord on the balcony, shutting the door behind us and effectively blocking out all of the sound from the festivities within.  
Below us, the lights of the people's homes blazed from their windows, and smoke billowed out of chimneys, collecting into a small cloud above the city. Far to the east, I could see a mass of clouds gathering, perhaps signaling that the first snow would be arriving soon.   
For a moment, everything was silent, the only sound coming from the patrolling silver Knights far below us. The smell of smoke lingered in the air from the lit sconces all around, and I was painfully aware of the chilled stone of the railing biting at my forearms.  
"Why is it that you always wear your armor?" Gwynord suddenly asked.   
"Have you seen my face?" I responded without hesitation and Gwynord chuckled.  
"No, I haven't, allow me to do so." I turned to face my former mentor, and realized with a start that he had moved so that he stood barely a foot away from me, looking down at me with an unfamiliar light in his eyes.   
"Ah, I see now," Gwynord mused "you really must conceal such beauty." Gwynord raised his hand, gently placing it on my cheek. This action caused me to turn quickly, stepping away from my former master.  
"What was that?" I demanded, my back still turned to him.   
"Well, I believe that was my hand." Gwynord said with a hint of a smile in his very tone. I didn't laugh though, leaving his words to linger between us. "Ornstein......please look at me." Gwynord said quietly.  
I bit my lip, my thoughts racing through my mind in time with the rapid beating of my heart. I felt Gwynord's hand on my shoulder, but I did not turn. After a few moments of his hand lingering, motionless, I felt it resolve as Gwynord came around my side to stand in front of me once more. I still could not meet his gaze though, instead staring directly at the sunlight medallion that he wore around his neck.  
"Look at me." Gwynord commanded, though in a gentle tone. Slowly, I clenched and unclenched my fist before raising my eyes to meet his.   
"You cannot deny what you feel forever."  
"I don't know what you're taking about." I denied Gwynord's assertion, turning away from him now and placing my hands on the railing of the balcony once more. I wanted nothing more than to run away from this situation, but I felt like I was rooted to this spot, only able to turn myself so that I wasn't looking at Gwynord.  
"Ornstein-"  
"It is not right." I insisted, not even allowing Gwynord to finish his sentence before I launched into my explanation. My friend looked somewhat shocked by my interruption, but I could feel the words rising and I couldn't stop them.  
"I am a knight, a mortal. If not for the shard of your and Lord Gwyn's soul within my vessel, I would be dead. And you....you are..." I could feel a knot growing in my throat, keeping me from finishing.  
"I am Gwynord. I am a man, just as you are, Ornstein."  
"I wish it were that simple."  
"You act otherwise."   
"I act realistically." Gwynord sighed, turning and taking a few steps away as he ran his fingers through his golden locks.  
"For a man who has shown such courage in battle, you display none when there are no dragons in sight." Gwyndolyn muttered.  
"Cowardice and wisdom are two different things." I retorted. Gwynord shook his head and then turned to face me once more.  
"In this moment, I am not a god, or a prince. I rid myself of all my titles when I speak to you. I hope that you can do the same." Gwynord let these words linger between us for a moment before stepping forward. Slowly, as though he were dealing with a dangerous animal, he took my hands in his, the calloused pads of his fingers meeting my palms.   
"I want you to stand by me Ornstein. When I return from every battle, I want you to be by my side. When you are wounded, I want to tend to your injuries." Gwynord's words caused another knot to form in my throat to go with the one in my stomach. I looked away as I tried to muster up the courage to speak. When I managed to do so, I was ashamed that my voice was little more than a whisper, and a shaking one at that.  
"That is not something that I can respond to easily."   
"I can see your answer in your eyes, Ornstein, you need only speak it." I bit my lip, trying to force the words to my tongue, but I could not.  
"I have seen what it does.....Artorias and Ciaran..."  
"You are not Artorias, and I am not Ciaran."  
"But-"  
"Ornstein. Do you have faith in me?"   
"Of course I do. You are my Lord." I replied almost instantly, my voice stronger than it had been only a few moment ago. Gwynord smiled at this response, his thumb now moving against the back of my hand.   
"Then have faith in me now. I know what is important to you. We are both soldiers, through and through. I just want to be at your side. All I ask in return is that you do the same for me." I looked down at the floor, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.  
"I am bound by my honor never to wed. One of the gods would make you happier, you could have a true bond with one of them." Gwynord's hands moved quickly from my hands to my cheeks, and his lips were suddenly upon mine. The only thing that registered in my mind was that his lips were softer than I had expected. Besides that, everything was just as I had imagined it, the way the pads of his fingers felt against my cheeks as he held me in our kiss, the way that his lips moved over my own, it was all as I had dreamt it.  
When Gywnord broke our kiss I could feel my heart thundering in my chest like the sound of hundreds of soldiers marching in step. The heat in my cheeks betrayed the blood that had rushed there, and I looked away so that my Lord would not see the rosy blush.   
"I do not want one of the Gods," Gwynord whispered. "I want you." At these words, I closed my eyes and leant my head against Gwynord's chest. It took a moment for me to muster up my courage, but then I whispered the only words that I had wanted to tell him for so long.  
"I love you."  
Now, I stood on that same balcony with the wind billowing around me. The sconce that had been lit that night was blown out, leaving me in the dark and the cold. I stared out over the city, and the land beyond. Looking up at the sky, I wondered if Gwynord could see the moon like I could, and I wondered what he was thinking.  
Did he miss me, or did he despise me for my cowardice when he needed me most? I could still remember the storm in his eyes as he had walked out of the throne room without a word, not even when I followed him. The sound of his chamber door slamming shut in my face still echoed through my head, almost unbearable in its solidarity.  
More than anything, I wanted to tell Gwynord that I was sorry. I didn't even care if he would never say that he loved me again, I wanted him to know that I loved him. With all of my heart, I ached for him. If only my fear had not overcome me when he needed me most, maybe he would still be standing next to me now, maybe things could be different. Even if they hadn't gone differently, I would have gone to the axe with him, and I would do so gladly now.  
Reaching up to the rough spun tunic that I wore beneath my armor, I drew out the piece of string upon which dangled the ring that Gwynord had given me. I held it out in my palm, staring at it with unbearable sorrow rising within me.  
"Let go of your emotions, they will only bring you more suffering." Rang the words of the assassin.  
"Our lord will have no compassion for heresy" echoed the Wolf.  
"As you broke his shrine, you must also dissolve your covenant" advised the archer.  
With these words ringing in my ears, and tears brimming in my eyes, I ripped the cord from around my neck and, before I could think twice, I cast the ring out into the great expanse around the palace.   
Instantly, I regretted it. I wanted to jump over the railing and retrieve the ring, but I knew that it was gone now. It was gone, along with everything else that had belonged to him. His possessions had been burned, his chamber door erased by an illusion, even his name had been expunged from the annals. Every shine had been destroyed and now....the last remnant of him was gone. It was as though he had never existed.   
I sank to my knees, and pressed my head against the railing as I attempted to steel myself. He was only a ghost, and I had to let him pass into the Great Divide.


	6. Hero of War

Chapter 6  
The streets of Anor Londo were filled with people, cheering and calling my name as I walked ahead of my battalions. The entirety of Lord Gwyn's armor was at my back, though many of them were without their helms or weapons now, as they had placed them upon a cart at the end of our battle.  
I would, of course, rationalize what had happened as a battle. It was the only way that I could keep my temperament under control. Even then, it took all of my self control to not lash out with my tongue as those who were celebrating what had taken place only a small handful of days ago.  
I had stood with Lord Gwyn, along with the other three Knights, when Gwynord had called for negotiation. Initially, I feared that Lord Gwyn would execute him on site, but he seemed willing to hear his son out, at least for a moment.  
Gwynord still wore his armor, which closely resembled that of his father. When we stood mere feet from each other, I tried to catch his gaze, but he refused to even cast a fleeting glance in my direction. He remained focused on his father the entire time.  
Gwynord informed his father that the dragons did not wish to do battle, and that if he would leave them be, then they would cause him no further casualties. Lord Gwyn only responded by mocking his son as a traitor and a coward.  
When Gwynord mounted the drake he had flown to our negotiation upon, Gwyn called forward one of Gough's Dragonslayers, ordering the man to give me his bow once Gwynord had taken off and was retreating toward the gathering of archtrees he had descended from.   
"Shoot him down." Gwyn commanded me, having Artorias hand me a great-arrow.  
"My Lord, his back is turned. This is not an honorable way to dispatch our enemy." Gwyn's gaze hardened then, and ordered Ciaran to my back. Without hesitation, Ciaran drew her twin blades and approached me, holding one to my neck as she whispered an apology into my ear.  
"If the traitor reaches the trees, then I will have your head, Ornstein. Make your choice." Fear rushed up, ensnaring me as it had when I had last stood next to Gwynord.   
With Ciaran's blade to my neck, I knocked the arrow and planted the bow into the ground. With monumental effort, I drew the string back, feeling as though the bow would snap in half from the tension put upon it.   
"Remove my helm." I requested "I will not kill my enemy from behind a helm, not while I'm shooting him in the back." Briefly, Ciaran withdrew her blade and removed my helm, allowing me to see just how alone Gwynord was. Without peripheral vision, it had been harder to realize, as all I could see was the small space surrounding him. Now, with the great expanse of archtrees visible above the black-blue waters of the lake, he looked like the bravest man I had ever seen, riding alone to prepare for a battle that he knew he would lose.  
If I could have, I would've stood with him, and died honorably. Instead, I was reduced to a coward unworthy of his honor.   
Once the arrow was aimed squarely at Gwynord's back, I closed my eyes, said a silent apology, and released the arrow.   
"Open your eyes, do him that honor." Ciaran whispered right after I had released the arrow, and did so just in time to see my shot hit its mark. When I saw the lance-like arrow run Gwynord through, I felt as though I had been pierced as well. The pain that exploded through my chest was unlike anything I had felt, even worse than what I had experienced when he had left.   
I watched as Gwynord tilted, and fell off the back of his drake. His arms reached up as he fell, as though grabbing for the sky, or perhaps he was reaching for Anor Londo, for home.  
All I knew, is that those arms would never hold me again. Those hands would never tangle in my hair in the early hours of the morning, or brush against my neck on their way down to my own. His arms would never encircle me into his warmth on a winter night. I would never see bright ivory of his smile, or the deep sea of his eyes.   
What ensured was a massacre. Gough's archers launched volley upon volley of arrows at the dragons, bringing down Wyverns and Drakes, hatchlings and ancient alike. They fell into the water just as Gwynord had, joining their fallen king in the great darkness that lingered below.  
Instead of joining him there, as I rightfully should have, as I deserved to, I now strode through the illustrious hall of Anor Londo, up to the throne of Lord Gwyn. I informed him of what he already knew, that the dragons were no more. We were finally victorious in our battle, which had lasted so long that many people in Anor Londo did not even remember its beginning.   
Lord Gwyn praised me, pledging that I would go down in the annals as one of the bravest Knights to every live, that I would be written about in scripture as his faithful servant.  
I did not feel pride at this fact. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was a coward being celebrated as a hero, while the bravest man who had ever walked among the gods would go down in the annals as a traitor, a fool who had not been able to see through his duty even when it was so close to being finished.   
Later that night, I found myself trespassing upon the forbidden chambers of Gwynord. What did it matter now if someone discovered me here? There was nothing here that remained of Gwynord. His collection of tomes had either been burned, or taken to the Duke's Archives. His bed, his robes, and all of the weapons that he had hung on the walls were destroyed. The room was bare, as though no one had ever lived here.   
If that was the case, then why did I find myself standing there, seeing the ghost of my memories playing out before me? I saw myself following Gwynord inside the first time he had convinced me to stay with him, the next morning when I had woken entangled in his arms for the first time, the first time we made love. So many memories played at once that I could see the reflections of Gwynord in a wide range of emotions, happiness when he looked down at me in the hours of dawn, sorrow when we faced heavy casualties, worry when I was injured, anger at the dragons he would later join.   
With all of these memories now projected out before me, I saw what I could have had. If I had gone with Gwynord, perhaps there could have been more moments like this, somewhere peaceful. We would have never worried about war again. We could have been wed, not in secret this time, and we would never have to hide our love behind closed doors again.  
But that was all over now, these memories were just visions of a man I had murdered. Nothing more, nothing less. So, I turned and made my way back to the door. When I glanced back into the room, my visions had faded. Of course they had, they were as real as the wall that covered the door I was about to exit.   
When I passed from that room, I left behind every happy memory that I had ever experienced. They were meaningless to me now, what good were they to keep around?  
For a time, Anor Londo experienced peace. Without the constant threat of the dragons, I was reduced to a guard dog. While Artorias and Gough kept peace among the humans, and hunted down heresies along with Ciaran, I was confined to Anor Londo. For years, it was the most luxurious prison that any criminal could have resided in.   
It was amusing to me, how my life seemed to have come full circle. When I was a young man, I had guarded my small settlement until I was able to join Lord Gwyn's army.   
I had risen to the highest rank of knighthood, captain of lord Gwyn's army. I had been a hero, feared by my enemies and respected by the people. Now, I was back to being a guard, albeit to a much grander city, a guard none the less.   
All of the Gods in Anor Londo praised me for my loyalty, for my unwavering faith in Lord Gwyn and Lady Gwynevere. Some commented that they wouldn't be able to stand doing what I do every day, standing around while nobles did business.   
Things weren't that bad though, I had other duties that I had to attend to, such as running new recruits through Sen's Fortress and other tests, training them once they reached Anor Londo as well.  
Then, things began to happen quickly. The flame began to fade, and there was a crisis in New Londo. Artorias was dispatched to the human settlement, while Lord Gwyn himself led an assault on Izalith, where the foolish witch had attempted to relight the fire with her own soul, spawning a corrupted flame in the process.  
Ciaran still worked to quell any heresy, and Gough went on small hunts to take care of any descendants of dragons that lingered in Lordran.  
During all of this, I remained as a sentinel over Anor Londo. Even though I was supposed to be Gwyn's most powerful knight, I was treated like a child.  
Then, Lord Gwyn told his four Knights of how he planned to solve the spread of an undead curse that had begun to rise in the humans. Artorias, of course, offered his own soul so that Lord Gwyn could live on, but our Lord Gwyn denied his offer. Instead, he ordered Artorias and Gough to safeguard Oolacile, where he feared a crisis like New Londo would arise.  
When I asked what Gwyn wished for me to do, he informed me that I would be guarding Princess Gwynevere, along with Smough, the executioner.   
Word reached me soon after Lord Gwyn's sacrifice that Artorias had fallen to the Abyss. This came directly from Ciaran, who had followed the Wolf and Giant to Oolacile.   
Soon after that, the Gods abandoned Anor Londo, along with Lady Gwynevere. When this happened, Lord Gwyndolyn created an imposter of his sister. He insisted that I remain to guard this illusion, as he said that it would aid in the extension of the age of fire. Ever loyal to the royal family, I did not protest.  
For years, I guarded the cathedral without incident. Occasionally, I would venture out into what remained of our once grand city, and marvel at how far it had fallen. Corpses littered the streets, once grand houses were now inhabited by human servants turned hollow. This is what I was left to guard, a city of death and illusions.   
The only thing that broke the monotony of my guard was when Lord Gwynoldyn told me that an intruder had invaded upon the tomb of Lord Gwyn, where his cenotaph stood. When I arrived there, I found that a miracle had been left upon Lord Gwyn's coffin. The parchment was that of the miracle sunlight blade.  
When I questioned Gwyndolyn about who had left the miracle, he responded that he had seen no intruder, that he must have slipped in by a passage that he was unaware of.   
As far as I knew, there were only two people that had possession of that miracle, and only a very select few who knew the secret passages of Anor Londo. The only thing was, both of the people who could perform sunlight blade were dead.  
Or were they?  
"I believe I know who left this miracle, Lord Gwyndolyn. I request your blessing to hunt him down." Lord Gwyndolyn tilted his head curiously at my request.  
"Oh? Who do you believe is this infiltrator?"  
"The one formerly known as your brother." Gwyndolyn's expression instantly turned to one of fury.  
"Knight Ornstein, you have my blessing to hunt down the traitor. Bring his head to me."  
With Lord Gwyndolyn's blessing, I returned to the cathedral, gathered my weapon, and departed from twilight Anor Londo.  
I knew that I would never return.


	7. Path of the Dragon

Staring up the grand mountain made me feel even smaller than I was in reality. The peak, and the mountains adjacent rose up like the walls around Anor Londo. At the moment where I stood at the bottom of the mountain, I imagined that this must be what it had felt like to be in the village outside of Izalith. I imagined the villagers starting up at the great wall that had towered over them like a looming giant, waiting for the right time to smash down and decimate their entire existence. Indeed, it felt as though this mountain was going to come crashing down and end my journey there, even after I had spent so many years walking across so many lands to get here. I had found the Dragon School of Vinhiem deserted, robbed of nearly all its scrolls. Thuroland, likewise, had been nearly decimated by the undead curse by the time I had arrived.   
The only thing that remained constant throughout my journey was my objective. While my armor tarnished, and a beard grew thick upon my face, I would repeat my sacred oath every day when I woke, a way of getting me through the day. Gwynord, that was the reason I had left Anor Londo. He was the reason I wandered the world, doing my best to find any trace of his existence.   
Oddly enough, it was not from a human being that I came upon the discovery that led me to this mountain. Rather, it was within a long abandoned archtree that I found my answer. For here, I had witnessed something that I never thought I would again. Nesting in the tree, wrapped within its grand wings, was an ancient dragon. When I had entered, it had opened its wings to observe me. As I had expected, the great beast’s eyes instantly filled with frightening hatred. It let out a noise that I feared would turn my legs to liquid and split my ears with its volume and intensity. Despite this hate-fueled declaration, I proceeded forward, casting my spear aside in a display of peace, holding my hands up in hopes that this ancient wonder would understand what it was that I was trying to do.   
Why was I doing this, I wondered to myself, before the less rational, tired part of me asserted that Gwynord had allied with the dragons, so perhaps they could understand me as well. Strangely, when I cast my spear aside the dragon’s head cocked to the side, as though it did not completely understand why it was that I had abandoned my weapon.   
“I do not wish to do battle with you, proud creature.” I called to it from where I had stood upon the sand within the arch tree. “My days of doing battle are long past, especially with the likes of your ilk. Instead, I have come here with a request.” Slowly, cautiously, I removed my helmet so that the dragon might see me instead of the Lion Knight who had murdered so many of its kin. The dragon did not react, only continued to stare at my helm as I moved it down to my side, tucked under my arm.   
“I come here not as a knight, not as a dragonslayer. I stand before you, a mere man. I am a servant without a master, a lover without his love. I have read in texts and heard in whispers that men have come to you, and been whisked away to the home of your kin. I beg thee, please, take me to this place. Take what you like from me, just, please; take me to the King who rules the storm.” Had I not known better, I would say that the dragon’s mouth twisted into a smile at my pleading.   
Suddenly, there was such pain in my head that it reminded me of when Gwynord had slammed his fist into my jaw. On top of the pain that caused me to drop my helm into the sand as I gripped my temples, a voice resonated through my mind. It sounded like Lord Gwyn’s, had it been magnified a thousand fold.   
“Murderer, destroyer of my kin, bow at my feet. Our king does not grant audience to any but acolytes of our path. This path will cause you arduous pain, and you must endure it if you wish to travel to the home of our kin.” When I managed to fight back the urge to vomit all over the sand, I crawled forward and prostrated myself at the foot of the great beast. It seemed that I was back where I truly belonged, a miserable servant groveling at the feet of yet another master. Had I ever really left this position? I thought not.   
As soon as I reached the foot of the dragon I felt that same pain explode through my skull once more. It did not stop there though, instead radiating throughout my entire body.   
“If you move, then you fail.” The dragon instructed, and so I did my best to steal myself. I could feel the pain as it moved through every nerve in my body, advancing inch by inch upon some horrid conquest in an effort to destroy my body. At least, that is what it seemed to be doing. What its true effect was, I had no idea. At that moment, I didn’t even want to open my eyes.   
Soon enough, that pain had consumed the entirety of my body. Every nerve was on fire, and I had to use all of my will power to not cry out. The only thing that I could think of was Gwynord’s face, and that was the only thing that kept me from stopping. I had not come this far to turn back, not when I was so close to seeing him again. My King, my love. I would stand at his side once more; I would feel his hands, his arms. He would smile at me, and I would see the spark that lit up his eyes, the one that I had missed so much.   
For how long that pain endured, I did not know. Time lost all meaning to me in that archtree, and all that I knew was the pain. At some point, I believe that I slipped into a sort of insanity, for it felt like I deserted my mortal coil entirely, instead living purely within memories. The pain was still present of course, only made more bearable by the memories that played out before me like a divine vision. At one point, I wondered if this was death, and Nito had just allowed my soul to pass on peacefully, but that was when I felt wind whipping around my face, the pain suddenly ceasing.   
After a moment of waiting, expecting the pain to return, I opened my eyes, and looked up. This is how I found myself at the foot of the mountain. Knowing that I had finally made it to my destination, I got to my feet as quickly as I could, despite the protest that my muscles offered up. Once I managed to stand, I realized that my helm and my spear were on the ground as though they had been placed gently next to me.   
I reached down, picking up my helm and putting it on. I noted that the coarse black hair of my beard had grown longer, making it difficult to put my helm on properly. I disregarded this though, wanting to start my journey up the mountain as quickly as possible. So, I picked up my spear, sliding it into the holster on my back as I walked.   
Fortunately, I didn’t have to climb up the mountain vertically. Someone had already carved a path up the mountain. So, I set out, ascending up into the heavens themselves. As I walked, I encountered no resistance. I would see the occasional shadow of a dragon as it flew over the mountain, or a drake’s nest, but I did not encounter any dragons. At least, not face to face. By the time I reached the peak of the mountain, it had been approximately five days since I’d begun.   
What I found at the peak was surprising. I had expected it to just be a normal mountain peak, perhaps capped with a small forest, or maybe an archtree leading down into the mountain itself. Instead, I witnessed a great shrine that seemed as though it had been constructed by the hands of mortal men. The architecture was not like anything I had seen before, so I reasoned that it must have been constructed before Anor Londo. However, it was not the architecture of the shrine that intrigued me the most, that honor went to the statue that stood at its front. I removed my helm, wanting to ensure that I was seeing the statue correctly.   
The form depicted in stone sent chills down my spine, sending visions of a sorrowful night spiraling through my mind. I approached the statue, placing my hand on its leg as I stood beneath it, looking up at Gwynord. Even seeing this statue of my love again nearly caused me to break down with happiness, as it more than satisfied the need that I had felt throughout these years. Despite this satisfaction, it seemed as though the universe was just ready to throw gifts at me.   
“Do you like it?” While that voice sent excitement rushing through me, it also rendered me completely petrified. Part of me was surprised that his voice did not hold malice in it, but the other part of me was extremely thankful for that fact.   
“Don’t tell me that you’ve lost your mettle after all this time.” The voice said, his tone telling me that he was wearing that smile that I loved so dearly. I set my helm down, and drew my spear out of its holster, likewise setting it upon the edge of Gwynord’s statue.  
Could I face him after all this time? Could I look into his eyes after I had attempted to murder him, all those years ago? I suppose I had to, I had journeyed all this way to do as much. So, I slowly turned. When I faced Gwynord, I saw that he stood at the top of the small flight of stairs that had risen behind me, his arms crossed over his chest. I stared at the stairs just in front of him, unable to meet his gaze. I was afraid that if I looked at him, then he would disappear just like all the things I had imagined in Anor Londo.   
It took me a moment, but I gathered enough courage to start walking up the stairs. My knees shook the entire time, and I feared that I would fall on my face before I reached him. Thankfully, I managed to make it to the stair just below Gwynord. I fell to my knees, and put my face to the ground at his feet.   
“You haven’t come to slay me?” He questioned.   
“No, My Lord.” I whispered.   
“Then why are you here?”  
“To stand at your side once more, my Lord, to serve you. It is the only thing that I am fit for.” I heard Gwynord move, and a part of me expected him to end my life then and there. After a moment, I looked up and saw that my King was offering a hand to me. Slowly, I leant back onto my knees and looked up into those sapphire eyes that I had missed so terribly.  
“You do not hate me?” I questioned, having expected only malice from Gwynord. In fact, I had half expected him to kill me on sight, but it would have been worth it just to see him once more. At my question, Gwynord smiled and responded.   
“I told you that I would always love you. That never changed.”  
“But-but….I betrayed you.” I whispered and Gwynord shook his head.  
“You did not betray me. I know that my father ordered you to fire upon me. Do you really think a simple arrow would end me? I would have thought that you were smarter than that, my love.” At those words, I rose to my feet swiftly and threw my arms around Gwynord’s neck. He jolted backwards, obviously caught off guard by my sudden movement. By the stiffness of his body, I thought that I had angered him, but then I felt his arms slowly close around my waist.   
“I missed you so much.” He whispered into my ear.   
“I missed you too.” Gwynord moved his arms, gently putting them on my shoulders and pushing me back enough that he could look down at me.   
“I think you lost something.” Gwynord whispered, opening his palm to reveal the golden ring that I had cost off the balcony of Anor Londo. I stared down at the ring, and then looked up into Gwynord’s eyes.  
“H-how?”  
“I sent one of my friends to retrieve it after you left Anor Londo. I figured that you would want it back, may I?” Gwynord asked his question as he reached to my gauntlet. I nodded in response, and he slid the metal off of its place on my arm, exposing my hand before sliding the ring onto my finger and moving to replace my gauntlet.   
“No.” I whispered, putting my other hand on Gwynord’s. When he looked up at me with confusion in his eyes, I smiled.   
“I won’t need it anymore…my days of fighting are behind me. I would actually appreciate it if you would help me remove my armor.” With a smile and a gentle touch, Gwynord undid the hinges holding the two pieces of my breastplate together, sending them both clattering to the ground as I removed my other gauntlet, allowing it to join the first on the stairs. Then came my shirt of mail, which slinked to the ground when I let it out of my grasp. Finally, the armor that covered my legs. Once that was removed, I stood in front of my love, wearing only smallclothes.  
“You’re just as beautiful as I remember, Knight Ornstein.”  
“I am not a Knight.” I objected, causing my love to cock a brow. “I am only a man, I am only Ornstein.” At this, a smile broke Gwynord’s previously confused expression.   
“And I am only Gwynord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I managed to finish this story over the course of a couple of days. I didn't intend for that to happen, it just did, I guess. I honestly just couldn't stop writing this story. I hope that you enjoyed it.


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